Aconcagua Dawn 1: The Moral Stasis
by The Man In The Alley
Summary: Ambassador Din has a bad flight plan. Wrex drinks with an Elcor on the Citadel. Shepard receives medical attention with Liara, Tali makes an important decision about home, Garrus takes care of some unfinished business and Kaiden takes a Leave of Absence.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer- I do not own Mass Effect or any of its characters, settings, ships, storylines, etc. BioWare and EA maintain all rights, and I am merely a lowly hack with a laptop and an internet connection.

Mass Effect: Aconcagua Dawn is rated (M) for violence, strong language, sexual/adult themes and alcohol/drug use.

A/N- FemShep, Earthborn street urchin, Akuze survivor, Paragon, FemShep/Liara and a lil bit of Garrus/Tali later on. But not really.

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Din Korlak stepped onboard the Nightingale with a heavy sigh. Thirty-two hours ago he'd been asleep in his temporary chambers, awaiting the completion of the restoration effort to his home and office back on the Citadel. One distress call over the Extranet later and he'd been forced to scramble up whatever meager essentials he could find, build a shipping party that could take him to Tuchanka in three days and maintain some sense of civility towards the complete lack of intelligence and respect that surrounded him.

He rubbed at the chain connected to his suited wrist. The chain ran from his wrist to a brown pleather briefcase attached to a metallic hoop at his waist. It was aggravating, but the safest form of travel for the documents he was transporting.

Whoomph! Behind Din, a number of his bags containing personal effects tumbled off the loader and onto the cold grey steel floor of the Nightingale's entryway.

"Hey!" Din shouted.

The young Salarian who'd been carting his bags on board stopped and turned to him expressionlessly.

Din continued, though a look of respectful fear would've been appreciated. "I understand that you scaled, bulbous-eyed, worm-feeders have no problem with failing at simple tasks, it comes naturally to those with a lower intellect, and I can't fault you for being clumsy either," Din took a deep breath of methane from his suit, "because with a body that gangly and malformed it's a wonder how you put one foot in front of the other every day," another breath, "but if it's not too much trouble, in the future, and only if you'd be so kind, when you decide it's just too daunting for you to push something of mine from point a to point b without dropping it, I'd greatly prefer that you do so with your head to the ground, so that when I pick up my bags myself, I don't have to look you in the face and realize that the future of my people", one final deep intake of gas as his voice rose several octaves in anger, "has been entrusted to a species so inept that half of my carry-on luggage has been crushed and broken before I've even seated myself for the flight!"

The Salarian stared back silently. Din waited, breathing heavily and staring up at him.

The Salarian blinked.

Din sighed, turned and waved his hand. "Just stow them in the back, preferably somewhere enclosed, like a storage compartment. You know, a place for bags."

When he got to his seat, several large forms were already seated around the area. They were not part of his shipping party.

The creature closest to him lowered the magazine it had been reading (or at least holding in front of it's face) as Din hopped into his seat, fussing with the briefcase to fit it comfortably beside him.

The female Krogan leered at him. "Trouble with your bags, Ambassador?"

Din huffed. "From one idiot species to the next. My suffering never ends."

The Krogan barked out a husky, feminine chortle. "Take heart, Ambassador. All suffering ends eventually."

Din looked up at her sharply.

She smiled, and even for a Krogan, the smile held a lot of venom. The promise of pain.

"But not before it gets much, much worse."

The ship started to rumble and shake. It was taking off, and forty minutes before it was supposed to.

Din looked around nervously. "What's going on here?!"

The figures, the Krogans, rose from their seats, all of them.

Din lunged forward from his seat and darted his bulky form to the right, then turned towards the rear of the ship, narrowly missing the female Krogan's claws as they swiped for him.

All he had to do was make it to the rear hatch, fifteen, maybe twenty feet away. The suitcase jostled at his waist. Din reached out and grabbed a cart of medical supplies, yanking it into the corridor between him and his pursuers.

He jumped forward just in time to avoid being crushed by the lead Krogan as it tumbled over the cart, landing on its side.

The Krogans roared behind him as he bolted for the exit, fear and adrenaline giving him the speed he needed.

He stumbled into the back and tripped, an arms length from the door. Enraged, Din looked back to see what he'd tripped over. Two of his bags. They'd been stacked on the outside of a storage compartment.

Several feet away lay the Salarian boy. His throat cut, lifeblood pouring out of him in waves. His eyes were sightless.

"Idiot!" Din gasped and stood, slammed against the exit hatch. His small, chubby hands fumbled with the release bar. He strained against it, the bar beginning to lift.

And then Din felt a claw tear into his shoulder. Then another on his leg.

She breathed into the side of his mask, a rank smell of rotten flesh and mildew.

"You can't leave Ambassador. You have a very, very, important meeting to catch." The claws dug deeper.

Din Korlak screamed.


	2. Wrex

Mass Effect: Aconcagua Dawn

A Mass Effect fanfic by The Man In The Alley

Episode 1. The Moral Stasis

FLUX

"That's just it, human. Some days you wake up knowing exactly what's ahead of you, step-by-step; pitfalls and helping hands, creeks of shit and the bridges that run above 'em."

The Krogan was drunk. Not to the point of violence, which considering the point at which Krogan's became violent he might have been completely sober with brain damage to soften him up, but Derby assumed the Krogan was just lubricated to the point where he wouldn't mind a little conversation.

After all, he certainly didn't seem to have a problem talking the ear off the barkeep.

"But then you've got these days, days that turn into weeks, weeks that seem like forever. Weeks like the last few I've had. Weeks filled with days that are anything but what you'd expect. Days where the steps are broken, the pitfalls are covered so well you can't see 'em till you're right on top of them and they give way, the helping hands have greasy fingers that slip right through your palm and the bridges-the bridges are completely rotted thro-".

"Excuse me, can I get a drink over here?" A voice called out from the other end of the bar.

The Krogan looked up from his drink, cut off mid-sentence. The bartender had walked to the customer at the other side. His gravel voice faded to a simple rasping thrum as he mumbled to himself.

Derby, who had already pushed a seat close to the Krogan aside and was resting on his haunches, decided this would be as good a time as any.

"Amicably; you were saying..."

The Krogan darted his blood-red eyes to Derby appraisingly. He seemed to think for a moment, drunkenly perhaps, before; "Shit creek. You fall into shit creek cause the bridge is rotted through. And you're stuck there, wading to the other end just because the path you always took before suddenly wasn't there anymore."

Derby shifted his cumbersome form from one foot to the other. "Tactful prodding; you seem to be speaking in metaphors, Krogan. Would you care to elaborate?"

"Well, there was this suspiciously brown river on Bulisder, beyond the Veil...but yeah, I'm talking about my recent hunt for Saren."

"Surprised recognition; you are Urdnot Wrex. Emphatically; it is a great honor to meet a hero of your caliber."

Wrex chuckled into his mug. Derby spotted the Krogan's talons as they gripped the polyurethane* coat of the stein. They were clicking against the foam, one after the other, almost playfully. Wrex did not believe the compliment to be true, Derby guessed, but he seemed to enjoy the sound of it.

"You got a name, Elcor?" Wrex rumbled.

"Child-like glee; My name is Derby, Urdnot Wrex. I am a research assistant, but, with shameful aggravation; I have discontinued my studies for the time being in order to help with Citadel restoration."

Wrex nodded. "Yeah, it's pretty hectic down here. The crime rate seems to have skyrocketed."

"Assuringly; C-Sec will regain control, I am certain. You seem to be doing well after your highly publicized ordeal. Hesitantly; how are your compatriots faring?"

The bartender returned at this point, apparently relieved to see that the Krogan had found someone else to talk to. Without asking he took Urdnot's mug and began refilling it. He eyed Derby.

"Need a drink, friend?"

Urdnot nodded. "He'll take a drink. I'm about to regale your Elcor patron here with some current news. He'll need something strong to keep himself interested."

Derby wished the Krogan could see how taken aback he was by that. "Horrified; I am very interested in the fate of true heroes, Urdnot Wrex. With utmost sincerity; please understand that."

Urdnot passed the alcohol, which had been filled in a bowl-like glass for the Elcor. "Drink up, Derby. I'm gonna tell you a thing or two about 'heroes'."


	3. Shepard and Liara

__

"You taken a good look at the sky lately, Derby? It's filled with them, over three thousand tiny human-forged stations, just twinkling up there in the sky like glitterbugs to be squashed. But my boss wouldn't care for that kind of thinking. Anyway, they're med stations. About the size of a Quarian space mine, each one of 'em. Three thousand plus, that's nearly a quarter of the Alliance Medical Fleet as I understand it, just orbiting the Citadel ruins. But I guess with tens of thousands of Citadel population still in need of medical attention after Saren's go at galactic domination, the Alliance will do whatever they can to help. And to stay on the council, of course. The boss was responsible for that, I suppose; did I mention her? She's up there now, amongst the masses. Got banged up pretty hard. But there's always benefits to...medical attention.

ALLIANCE MEDICAL STATION 34-B17

Alice Shepard sighed into Liara T'Soni's mouth, her hand pressing on the back of the Asari's head, forcing their lips into each other. She wouldn't tell this to anyone, not even Liara, but she was certain that the taste of this beautiful alien girl was better medicine than any the Alliance could provide.

Liara moaned and leaned her body into Shepard's, straddling her, Liara's open palms flat on the Spectre's shoulders, making their way down to her chest.

Alice gasped.

Liara stopped, broke their embrace and backed off of her.

Alice opened her eyes and struggled to focus through a haze of lust into the darkness of the medroom. "What? What's wrong?"

Liara frowned, breathing as hard as Alice. "You, you were in pain, Shepard."

"What? Oh, you mean that noise I just made?"

"Your sharp intake of breath, yes."

"That wasn't a gasp of pain, Liara; it was a pleasure gasp, you know? Like, hey, I really like where this is going, let's not stop."

"You didn't make that particular sound on the Normandy, Shepard. I would've remembered."

Alice stared up at Liara quizzically.

Liara looked down at her uniform and straightened a crease nervously. "I would've catalogued it..." She took a breath, "-for future reference."

Alice sighed and removed her hand from Liara's smooth, soft tendrils, a smirk on her lips. "Jesus."

Liara nodded seriously. "Yes, that one I remember."

"C'mon!" Alice demanded, moving her hands to grip Liara lovingly beneath her arms, her thumbs pressing against the sides of the Asari's breasts. "I gasped the first time we were together, plenty of times, it's a natural human reaction to pleasure."

Liara's frown deepened. She leaned forward, sliding her arms underneath Shepard's body, one of her hands gripping the nape of Shepard's neck beneath her red mane.

Alice grinned and moved to kiss her.

Liara dodged the kiss, leaning her head to the side, her lips dragging across Alice's neck.

"Oh," Alice moaned.

Liara's grip on her neck tightened, her lips finding a sweet spot and locking in place on her neck. Alice felt Liara's tongue slide along the skin she'd trapped in her mouth, not long before Liara began to suck on her.

Alice felt dizzy with passion, her eyes lolling back beneath their shut lids.

"Ah," she exclaimed, her breath hitching, her hand on Liara's back beginning to dig it's nails into the smooth rubber texture of her suit.

Liara's tongue swept faster, her mouth sucking harder until her hand moved from Alice's neck into her silky red hair, grabbing a handful, and twisting to pull Shepard's head up and expose more of her neck.

Alice gasped for air, breathing hard, a low steady moan building in the back of her throat.

Liara promptly dropped her hand from Shepard's head, her mouth leaving her neck and in one smooth motion she was sitting upright again on top of the commanding officer.

Alice laid there, twisting in the medical bed, her eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the return of Liara's touch until she realized it wasn't coming. She shook in frustration and opened her eyes once more, out of breath and fuming.

"What...the...fuck?"

"That, what you did when I pulled your hair, that was a gasp I have heard from you. I enjoy that sound very much, Shepard, it's gratifying and sexually explicit. I would not confuse that sound and the one you made earlier."

Alice ran one hand through her hair. "I told myself after Akuze that I'd never get involved with a scientist." She tried in vain to rub the burning sensation from her cheeks. "Now I remember why."

"Yes," Liara agreed. She reached forward and prodded Alice below her shoulder blade with one finger, hard enough to leave an impression in the green hospital gown Alice was forced to wear during her stay.

Alice instinctively winced, breath escaping from her gritted teeth in a hiss.

"Because you don't enjoy being caught in a lie," Liara finished.

Alice glared up at her. She was smiling in a way Alice had never noticed before. Almost...smugly.

Alice chuckled, reached up and stroked Liara's cheek. "You know,-"

There was a sudden knock at the medroom door, followed by the handle turning.

Liara moved to get off the bed and off of Alice, but the Spectre stopped her with a firm hand on her waist.

The door opened and a fresh-faced young man in his late teens peered inside. "Commander?"

"Permission to enter is a thing of beauty, Ensign," Alice said, having no doubt that the view the young man was getting was probably worth any retribution he'd face later. "Maybe you should brush up on your Customs and Courtesies."

The kid looked sufficiently cowed. "Yes ma'am, I'm sorry, it's just that something's come up, and I received word from Councilor Anderson that you were to be debriefed at twenty-fifteen."

Alice glanced at the clock on the wall. "Thirty-five minutes," she grumbled. "Thank you, Ensign; you are now free to report your failure to await permission to see me being straddled," Alice yawned, "so that I don't have to."

The young man looked crestfallen. "Yes, Commander."

After the door shut, Liara looked down at her remorsefully. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"You very rarely get moments to yourself like this, to enjoy...things that relax you. I had forgotten this."

Alice smiled. "You relax me, Liara. No matter what you're doing. You could spend all of our time together trying to uncover every little untruth I speak and I'd still be calmer for having you around."

Liara bent over her and kissed her softly on the lips. "I'd rather do this," she whispered throatily.

"Liara?" Alice whispered back.

"Yes, Shepard?"

"Go scrounge up some coffee while I find something that passes for pants, would you?"

Liara smiled back her and nodded, slipping her feet to the floor and removing herself from the bed. "Yes, Shepard."

Before Liara opened the door to leave Alice called out, "Oh, and find that Ensign before he rats himself out. Have him apologize to your chastity with an old naval song or something and tell him that's good enough for me."

"Your compassion is astounding, Shepard." Liara replied wryly.

Alice shrugged. "Hey, he's Navy. He'd love to sing you a song, Liara. Maybe a little dance too."

Outside, in a corridor of the medical bay just beyond Shepard's room, a figure stood wrapped in a shawl. It watched Liara close the door behind her and walk off down an opposite hallway.

It waited.

Seconds passed.

It stepped out into the hallway and moved towards the door.


	4. Tali

__

"Have you ever considered what it would be like, Derby, to watch a human female and an Asari mate? I never used to think about things like that. Funny how often it comes to mind now, though. And at the most random of moments. I wonder why that is...course, I also never really gave much thought to Quarians either. But in those last few weeks, before Saren died, I mean, when we all started noticing what was going down between the Commander and Liara, I began to wonder why they didn't just invite Tali, our little Quarian on board, into a sterile environment where she could lose that tight-fitting suit of hers and they could all have a little fun together-"

"Embarrassed; yes, Urdnot, I can see your point, but, tactful segue; how is the Quarian now?"

"Well, that's where I was headed. I don't know, Derby."

THE NORMANDY

6 DAYS AGO

Garrus Vakarian followed closely behind Tali, keeping pace with her as she strode briskly around the lower levels of the Normandy, gathering her items together.

"So that's it. You're finished with the mission, you're finished with the Normandy."

Tali didn't stop moving, spotting a black cylindrical power converter beneath a stack of requisition licenses, stooping, picking it up and stuffing it in her canvas bag. "That's right. Saren is dead, I'm done. I did what I set out to do, what I promised Commander Shepard I would do. Now, I return home."

"Right," Garrus replied bitterly, "and all the better what with that Geth OSD burning a hole through your suit. Tell me, Tali'Zora, how long would you have waited to catch Saren with that disc in your possession?"

Tali turned to him now, her anger clear in her eyes through the faceplate in her suit. "As long as it took, Vakarian, I keep my promises. Saren is dead."

"And not even cold yet. It hasn't been forty-eight hours and you're on the next possible freighter that'll take you far enough away from here that were anything to go wrong you wouldn't know about it for weeks. Your own conscious won't even be able to touch you...for a while, at least."

"My conscious is quite settled, you pretentious jerk, and nothing is going to go wrong that Citadel forces can't handle. We won! It's done, Garrus. I'm not up for any more adventures. I'm going home, where I'm needed." She turned away from him, shouldering her bag and making for the elevator. "Oh, and I'm no scientist, Garrus, but I'm pretty certain that even a Turian corpse is cold after forty-eight hours!"

Tali slammed the call button for the elevator.

Before she could think of anything else to say, Garrus was there, standing behind her, close enough that his mere presence felt like a granite slab on her shoulders. He grabbed her arm.

"You're needed here, Tali." His voice wasn't a whisper, but it was calm.

Tali felt her breath catch.

The elevator slammed home, the door slid down.

And Commander Shepard stood inside with Liara and Wrex.

Shepard smirked. "You two going up? We were just on our way to get you."

Tali shook her arm free from Garrus' hold, and they both stepped onto the elevator.

Once the elevator door shut Tali took a step away from Garrus and, despite the cramped space, huddled close to fit in between Shepard and Liara.

"You'll have to spend a few more days on the Citadel, guys, I'm sorry," Shepard stated, ignoring the tension between Garrus and Tali, "they're sending me to one of the medical orbiters the Alliance is bringing in-"

"That's fine," Tali said quickly, "I was headed out anyway."

Shepard noticed the bag for the first time. Recognition flashed in her eyes, along the something else Tali couldn't quite make out in the relative darkness of the lift. "So you're going back to the Flotilla, then."

Tali hesitated before nodding. "Yes, I felt-"

"She feels that she's done what she vowed to you that she'd do, and now that that's done and she's gotten what she wanted to boot, she'd take off," Garrus interrupted, "fly away home."

Shepard gave her a long look. "Is that it, Tali? Have you gleaned everything you can from the Normandy?"

"Yes," Tali responded, "I have."

"Then the best of luck to you, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. You served the Normandy with dignity and valor, and you have my utmost gratitude for your efforts. I'm certain that the Citadel can find a small frigate that will be able to cater to your needs. You are a war hero, after all."

Tali felt the cold grip of guilt in her chest. She wondered how many times Shepard had delivered that same speech. _Deserter_, she thought to herself. _That's what I am._

"Very well, Shepard..." Tali trailed off here, noticing Wrex for the first time since she'd stepped on.

Shepard followed her gaze and, a few moments later, so did Liara and Garrus.

"Wrex?" Shepard called out to him.

The Krogan continued to stare at the three women. There was a glazed expression in his eyes. He didn't seem to have noticed his name being called.

Shepard raised her hand to his face. Snapped her fingers.

Urdnot blinked, shook his head. "What's the problem?"

"Where were you?"

"Doesn't matter," the Krogan said quickly, "Battles, blood. Carnage. I've ended worlds."

Shepard nodded. "You're dripping saliva, Wrex."

"So? I don't have any sweat glands. It's hot in here. We shouldn't all be in here."

There was a silence as the lift continued to ascend.

Wrex shifted. "I don't remember it taking this long to reach the bridge."

The elevator stopped then, and the door rolled down. Wrex and Tali rushed off of the elevator together, almost bumping into each other. They took a step back, crossed paths and left in separate directions. Tali towards the docking bay exit, satchel across her shoulder, Wrex towards his quarters.

Garrus sighed as he stepped out with Alice and Liara. "You shouldn't have let her go, Shepard. She would've stayed if you'd asked. She wanted you to ask."

"It's not my place to change her mind, Garrus," the Spectre responded sadly.

Garrus shook his head in disgust. "You could've at least tried as hard as you did with Kaiden."

She looked at him sharply. "Drop it, Garrus. People want to jump ship, the door's wide open. Now's the time for them to do it."

She stood beside him a moment longer, until Tali had disappeared completely. Then she left him there, with Liara at her side.

Garrus continued to stand in the corridor.

"She would've stayed if you'd asked her to."


	5. Kaiden

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_Incredulous with mild discomfort; are you suggesting that a Turian C-Sec officer left the Citadel in the purs-purs…to chase Saren and in the process of finding him, he became enamored with a Quarian Engineer on board the Normandy?_

_That's not the point. Tali's gone, that's what I'm saying. And Garrus? Well, I'll get back to Garrus. Hey, Barkeep! Freshen the Elcor's drink. See Derby, Tali wasn't the only crew member we lost after Saren died. She wasn't even the first._

THE CITADEL EMBASSIES

ONE WEEK AGO

"I'm not sure I understand, Lieutenant. You're one of the Alliance's strongest leading figures. You've given hope to people when all hope was thought lost. We need you. The people of the Citadel need you, as a staple of the restoration project. And as a beacon of hope. Isn't there some other way we can help you?"

Kaiden Alenko sat in the chair opposite his former commander and current council representative, David Anderson. Anderson was sincere at this moment, as he had been for the most part since Kaiden had met him. But there was a sense of urgency and demand in the black man's eyes that Kaiden had rarely ever seen before.

Behind Anderson, leaning against a stone column, flame red hair and strong figure framed by the bright blue skylight of the Citadel, Alice Shepard had her arms crossed, watching Kaiden in complete silence.

Her eyes had never left his since he'd sat down and stated his case. Not once.

"I-I'm sorry, Councilor. It's just; too much has happened. Forgive me, sir, but everything that's gone down around me since we dropped onto Eden Prime…" Kaiden took a shaky breath, running his hands over his face, over his eyes. He was sweating. "-it's all just been fucked, sir. Total 'fubar'."

Anderson stood, palms flat on his embassy desk. He stared down at Kaiden, speaking softly, but firmly. "That's the job, son. You don't just have to have the talent to do what needs to be done, you have to grow the backbone to carry the weight of what you've seen."

From the back, Shepard coughed.

Anderson stopped, turned to her.

Their eyes met and she shook her head.

Anderson sighed, walking away from his desk, one hand in his pocket. "Look, Lieutenant, I'm not going to deny your request. I know you have the backbone and the skill, I'm not trying to call that into question. I'm just trying to let you know, poorly I guess, that without people like you, humanity wouldn't have a seat on the Citadel council right now. We wouldn't have made it beyond Earth. It's people like you, who are willing to risk everything they've got so humanity can see another day, that show the galaxy the best of what we can do."

Kaiden waited a second, nodded mechanically and stood. "I'll be back, Councilor. I just need this time to recuperate, that's all."

Anderson frowned, but said nothing in return.

Kaiden stood in front of the chair a few seconds more, then nodded to Alice, "Commander," and took his leave.

Once the door was shut, David stepped up to the window next to Shepard. He stared out at the ruins of the Citadel, the masses of people working as one to repair what Sovereign and the Geth had done.

"That went well," he said.

"Did it?"

"Everything except for that last bit. I didn't appreciate that."

Shepard nodded, moved for the door. "No, sir. No one appreciates being lied to."

Before he could respond, she'd already closed the door behind her.

* * *

Alice caught up with Kaiden several moments later, wandering through the embassy halls.

"What the hell was that?"

Kaiden turned to her, surprised. "He wasn't going to change my mind, Commander, you should've known that."

"I don't give a damn about whether or not you take extended leave, Kaiden, neither does Anderson; don't pretend like that's what this is about!"

"Well then, please Commander, fill me in," Kaiden said condescendingly, "what's the problem?"

"Did you think we wouldn't find out about your voluntary trip to the psyche department yesterday, about the forms you took? It's the goddamn Citadel, word travels, all right? You ask somebody a simple question and suddenly you find yourself standing there for fifteen minutes while they ramble on."

Kaiden said nothing.

"I mean, c'mon," Alice pleaded, her eyes becoming wet, "post-traumatic stress? Jesus, Kaiden."

Kaiden raised a hand and backed a step away. "Alright, Commander, I get the poin-"

"Would you cut the formalities, already? It's just you and me here-"

"Why?" Kaiden asked suddenly, cutting her off, "so you can lead me on for another few weeks? Didn't get your fill the first time?"

"I have the right to care about you, Kaiden, no matter who I choose to sleep with."

"Well that doesn't work for me," Kaiden said, his voice raising, echoing off of the stone walls around them, "I didn't put my life on the line for Commander Shepard and her assorted crew of alien mercenaries and techies and shy, stuttering, blue-skinned biotic fucking princesses, okay?"

They stood in the hall, feet away from each other, listening to the last of Kaiden's anger reverberating down the walls of the embassy.

Kaiden took a breath and spoke again, softer and broken down. "I did it for Alice Shepard and her sense of right and wrong, her charm and wisdom and the fight in her gut and the scar beneath her eye and the ridiculous black lipstick she never seems to take off."

Alice looked away from him, her hand raising instinctively to her mouth.

"You're not coming back, are you?" She responded. "You're going to sit on Earth for one hundred and twenty days, staring at the vid-screens and thinking about everything that went wrong, and when the leave is up you're going to turn in those PTSD forms and separate from the Alliance."

Kaiden rolled his eyes and turned from her.

"You're going to walk away from everything you've built since Jump Zero, and all over a bruised ego."

"With all due respect, Commander; go to hell." With that, he was gone around a corner.

After several moments of listening to his receding footsteps, Alice managed to fight off the urge to break down into tears.

Someone stepped up behind her. "It wouldn't be wise to blame yourself for this, Shepard. He was bound to leave eventually."

"Why can't people understand the concept of a mutual friendship," she asked the Krogan.

Wrex gave her a sidelong glance. "Well, if that's what you want to call it. Anyway, the months ahead aren't going to be easy. If people want to jump ship, the door's wide open. Now's probably the time to do it."

Alice let out a small, humorless chuckle. "That's cruel, Wrex."

"Yeah, I guess it is."

Alice glanced around suddenly. "Is it just you here?"

Wrex rumbled, laughing. "She's in the Wards with the lady doctor. She didn't hear anything he said, no matter how loud he was."

"Good."

"C'mon, Shepard, I'll buy you a drink."

She turned with him, and they started to walk in the direction of the embassy lounge. "If I say yes, are you going to expect me to sleep with you?"

"Spectre, you're two hundred pounds too light and the wrong species. I just expect you to keep me well-armed, well-paid and surrounded by the promise of a violent death."

"I think that's a fair trade, Wrex."

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	6. Garrus

A/N - I smoke. Just so you know.

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"_Forlornly; this is not what I was expecting from the saviors of our galaxy, Urdnot Wrex. The most cheerful event you've related to me was the possibility of an interspecies romance on a medical station, and I was raised to find that, with hesitant honesty; disturbing."_

"_You wanted to hear about 'heroes,' right? Well, we're not finished yet, Derby. I'm saving the best for last. What do you know about C-Sec?"_

"_Apprehensive; I do not know much. They are the law, I obey the law. I have not encountered them for any criminal activity."_

"_Hmm, sounds dull. They might be the law, but the line they walk is as rigid as an Asari escort, and as straight as the Citadel archways. Do you follow me, Derby?"_

"_Insulted, but drunkenly ambivalent; of course, you are suggesting that they are crooked, and they bend the rules."_

"_The ones willing to get the desired results will bend the rules, for their version of the greater good. But there are others, many of them nowadays, who find it's easier to break them. Scum who'd rather send you up to face the executioner on false charges than risk losing that false sense of security. Garrus and I, we've come to share a hatred for people like that. Difference is, I'm a known criminal and he's a cop. You can trust him."_

CITADEL

RESIDENTIAL SECTION

"Maddy!" Harkin cried, sitting upright and reaching his hand out.

Nothing was there. Just the darkness of his apartment, pierced by a strong light that seared his eyes for a moment, and lanced pain through his drug-addled skull for what seemed like hours.

Eventually, his eyes adjusted.

The blue glow of the vid-screen cast shadows across the small, one room apartment. The sliding-door to his left was splotched with ink-black patches of darkness, as were the coffee table between him and the vid-screen, and the fold-out couch he was currently sitting on.

_Must've passed out,_ Harkin thought groggily, wiping his hand across his face. He realized then that not all of the wetness dampening his features was perspiration; he was crying, and had been for some time.

"Fuck." He growled, standing up and stumbling into the kitchen alcove, forcing his legs, which felt just as hung over as his head, to carry him to the sink.

Harkin reached for the faucet but couldn't locate it. Flipped on the light switch next to the fridge.

"Ah, jezzun-shit!" He screwed his eyes shut from the horrible, blinding light of the twenty watt bulb above him.

Again, when the pain faded with the promise to return later with more strength, Harkin peeked his eyes open and looked into the sink.

Cold, reflective steel on the sides, rusted faucet with a silver button and a temperature slide on the rim.

The drain was hidden under a quivering, half eaten slice of pizza and the glass shards of about three or four broken beer bottles, their generic labels illegible under a thick film of vomit that layered the entire bottom of the sink.

A black midori beetle scuttled out from under the chunk of pizza. It continued to shake, but Harkin ignored the infestation and pressed the silver button on the top of the sink.

The faucet sputtered and shot to life, blasting water into the metallic bowl. Bulky, silver dollar-sized beetles scurried out left and right from underneath the battered food, seeking shelter outside of the sink. The vomit began to speckle his dirty white t-shirt. Harkin busied himself pooling the water into his hands and washing the mixture of tears and sweat that had caked on his face.

Something snapped and crackled behind him.

Harkin whipped around.

A grey alarm clock on the cheap, oak knock-off table beside the bed blinked red digits.

An electronic voice then emitted: "It is now…nine…pm."

He shuddered, laughing. "Yeah, thanks."

The radio switched from alarm to a broadcasting channel. "-unconfirmed reports that, just moments ago, the class twelve frigate 'Nightingale', supposed to have been carrying volus ambassador Din Korlak, veered off course near a salarian checkpoint outside of the-"

"Off," Harkin crowed, pinching the bridge of his nose and squinting. The radio clicked, and went silent.

"Fuck Din Korlak…" he muttered, "volus prick." He turned back to the sink, but a flurry of motion from the corner of his eye caught his attention. The beetles, at least a dozen of them, had found a dry spot on the fridge.

They were scrubbing themselves, rubbing their legs together or sweeping their antennae across the silver circular brand that had been stapled onto the fridge. Sirta.

Someone knocked at the door.

"Unbelievable; can a man not get a moment's peace to himself?" Harkin growled, shutting the sink off and walking out of the alcove, taking care to switch the light off behind him on the off-chance that the night caller was female.

The apartment was dark once more, save for the light of the vid-screen.

"Hello?" Harkin called.

"C-Sec, open up."

"Go fuck yourself," Harkin stated, but he slid his palm across the electronic entry lock all the same.

The door slid open with a hiss. Garrus Vakarian stood on the other side.

"Garrus," Harkin cried, throwing his arms wide in mock affection before quickly dropping them, "I stand by my earlier statement. Go fuck yourself."

"Why thank you, _Officer_ Harkin, I can't tell you how much I've missed your cheerful personality."

"Yeah, yeah" Harkin agreed knowingly, taking a step back from the door, "can't tell me something if it's not true, can you?"

Garrus nodded, stepping inside the threshold, the door wooshing shut behind him. "Exactly."

Harkin stepped around the coffee table and sat on the couch, throwing his hands across the cushions to his side. He stared at Garrus questioningly. "So, to what do I owe the distinct pleasure of a visit from a media hog like you, Vakarian?"

Garrus didn't respond, instead squatting down in front of the coffee table and examining the paraphernalia scattered across its surface. Some green and white pills off to the left, various shades of brown powder dusting the middle with several ashtrays bordering the right containing the remains of both regular cigarettes and the burnt scraps of illegal papers Harkin had rolled himself.

Harkin raised one leg and swept it across the table absently, the pills, powders and papers falling to the floor. Some of the powder swept up into the air and swirled in the light coming from the vid-screen.

"If you're here to gloat about your lucky break, you can save it. I'm not interested in some bullshit 'save the world' cause you've taken up."

"Of course," Garrus smiled at him, like a teacher to an unruly child, refusing to be angered, "why should you be thankful; that would be ridiculous." His eyes scoured the apartment until they landed on the not-oak table beside the couch, then flicked back to Harkin.

"Damn right it would. The way I see it, you and that red-headed little bitch-whore you been running around the galaxy with brought that shit-storm to the citadel-"

Garrus reached down to the floor and picked up one of the ashtrays.

"-cause you'd gotten yourself in so much trouble that you finally needed the Alliance to bail your skinny turian ass out."

Garrus hefted the ashtray in his hands a few times, his eyes sliding from it to Harkin.

Harkin frowned, tensing his muscles.

Garrus chuckled, tossing the ashtray lightly onto Harkin's stomach. "Yes, you're right, of course. I did need the Alliance's help. Me and that, that red-headed…what was it?"

Harkin didn't relax completely. "What?"

The turian sighed and shook his head with a smile, sitting on the coffee table. "Never mind. Anyway, that's not why I came by, Harkin. I'd never seek praise from you; that's just trying to grind water from a stone." He spotted an unlit cigarette on the floor, beside Harkin's leg, and he snatched it up carefully, pinching it between two claws.

He placed the cigarette into the side of his mouth and stared at Harkin expectantly.

"Oh," Harkin blinked and reached over to the bedside table, grabbing his lighter. He handed it to Garrus, who inspected it with what appeared to mild curiosity. It was a metal Palaven lighter, square and silver-plated with an inscription on the bottom, a flip-top and a roller. Garrus lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, the tip burning orange for about five seconds.

Garrus blew out a stream of smoke with a smile. "I'd forgotten how much fun that is. We never really thanked you humans for such a pleasurable past-time, did we? And completely harmless…to us, anyway."

Harkin was silent, unsure of what to say.

Garrus clapped him on the leg. "That's what's so funny about humans. The shortest lifespan of any sentient species this side of the galaxy, and you're all looking for addictive ways to kill yourselves faster."

Harkin grumbled, exasperated. "Cut to the chase, Vakarian."

The turian twisted the lighter through his fingers. "I quit the force today. The Alliance wants me back on the Normandy full time; as a…civilian consultant, of sorts."

Harkin chuckled. "Always took you for a quitter, Garrus. If you couldn't find a suitable way to make the case, you'd drop it."

Garrus laughed with him. "Yes, yes, I am a quitter. But you, no one could ever be so bold as to throw that word your way, could they, Harkin?"

He stood up, taking another deep drag from the cigarette. "Sure, I might have been willing to step on a few toes to get a conviction I knew was right, and torture, killing? Well, I never had a problem with that. I like killing, actually. It's satisfying, because the person at the end of the gun always had one of their own, right?"

"Right," Harkin nodded, uneasy.

"But, I suppose I'm even a quitter when it comes to killing sometimes. My father, he was like you, in a way. Not a quitter, never a quitter. Always working meticulously at every little detail to get things done just right. For him, the details were already there, he just had to find them. For you? The details were tools to use to your advantage, and if you had to make some up along the way, wasn't it worth it? As long as _someone_ ended up in a jail cell to fill your quota."

Harkin's face darkened. He sat up. "Now wait just a minute you son-of-a-bitch, I-"

"Me," Garrus paced between the table and the vid-screen, walking through wafts of his own cigarette smoke. "I'm a big picture kind of guy. I was never one for the details. Like this lighter." He waved it in front of Harkin, "wasn't this evidence at one point? The Sodermeyer case, twelve or thirteen years into your career, the arsonist targeting Volus families in the lower sector. Look, it still has his name inscribed on the bottom. You thank your God that you found this, don't you, with his name and fingerprints on it?"

Garrus leaned across the table, leering at Harkin. He spoke softly, menacingly. "Cause as how I remember it, you didn't have a case until it popped up."

Harkin, furious, moved to strike, fist raised and shoulder pumping.

Garrus moved faster, backing away and to the side, grabbing Harkin by the arm and twisting it behind his back.

The human squealed in pain, kicking his leg out and smashing the coffee table.

"They were all like that for a good long while, weren't they, Harkin?" Garrus whispered frantically in his ear, "Cases made easy by forced confessions, missing witnesses for the defendants, beautiful, young asari and human girls with black eyes willing to say anything to get a dirty, rotten, piece-of-shit like you a rock-solid conviction!"

He threw Harkin bodily across the room. His stomach slammed into the wood island that separated the kitchen alcove from the living room. Harkin's chest heaved and arms flailed with the impact, dirty dishes and pans flying into the kitchen and crashing into the walls, breaking or denting on the linoleum below.

Harkin dry-heaved on the island, his stomach empty but kicking, forcing up spittle and bits and pieces of bile through his nose and mouth. He slid off the island top, his legs giving away, his right arm scrabbling for purchase but finding only a butcher block to drag down with him as he fell to his knees on the living room floor.

"And today, Harkin?" Garrus crooned, walking slowly through the darkness away from the vid-screen, towards the fallen officer. "Today I found out about your greatest trick yet. You're coming back to the force! Three more years and a full pension, guaranteed!"

"I-I earned that!" Harkin sputtered gruffly between hacking fits on his hands and knees. "The suspension was bullshit!" He was still holding onto the block with one hand.

"Stand up." Garrus demanded, all humor having left his voice.

"Why?"

"Stand up!"

Harkin quickly pulled a knife from the butcher's block. "Fuck yourself, Vakar-"

He was cut off by Garrus' foot kicking swiftly into his gut, knocking the wind from his lungs and throwing his body back into the counter.

Harkin struggled to breathe, glaring furiously up at Garrus, the knife shaking, gripped tightly in his hand. "You-you're right," he quaked, rasping through gritted teeth, "I'm back on the force because I know people. People who would kill you, Vakarian. People who will kill you, you walking dead FUCK!"

Garrus squatted down in front of the man as he gasped for air, his eyes daring Harkin to wield the blade.

"I'm off the force, Harkin. I'm off the force and on the Normandy, and that red-headed bitch-whore you hate so much is a better trump card than any scum politician you've managed to blackmail into your pocket over the last two worthless decades of your pathetic, low-life existence. I could kill you, Harkin, and walk away clean."

Harkin swept the knife forward. Garrus didn't move, didn't flinch. What was left of the cigarette he held in his mouth was just as still.

The blade missed his throat by a foot, and the momentum carried Harkin onto his back.

Garrus stared at him, waiting. Then he scoffed in disgust, stood, walked to the door of the apartment and wordlessly pressed the button to exit.

The door slid open once more.

Harkin watched Garrus step outside. With what strength he had left, he laughed.

"You're a liar, Vakarian."

Garrus paused. He took the cigarette from his mouth and threw it to the ground. Stubbed it out under his heel. He nodded. "You're right, Harkin. I did lie."

He glanced to either side of the hallway outside of Harkin's apartment and seemed satisfied. Then he stepped back inside. "I'm never a quitter when it comes to killing someone worthy of it."

He closed the door behind him.

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	7. Epilogue

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FLUX

Flux had emptied down to the last few patrons. Derby and Wrex sat at a table they had moved to around the time Wrex had begun talking about Tali.

Two Asari diplomats were on the dance floor, holding each other and swaying softly, even though the music had died about a half hour ago.

Upstairs, the Quasar machines were equally silent.

The bartender appeared by the Krogan's side. He wiped down the table they were at even though it was already clean. The human eyed the Elcor, who was now laying on all fours, his head resting on the tabletop.

He glanced at the Krogan nervously. "You've got to get him out of here."

"I know that," Wrex replied gruffly.

"We close in fifteen minutes… last call was almost an hour ago."

Wrex turned to the waiter. "Have you ever seen a man's arms ripped from their sockets?"

The bartender stopped wiping imaginary crumbs from the table.

Wrex held his gaze. "You seem interested to know what that looks like."

The barkeep withdrew his hand from the table quickly, leaving the white rag.

"Just take him away," the human said as he stalked off.

Wrex huffed and turned back to the Elcor.

Derby's eyes rolled open.

"People just aren't as afraid as they used to be," Wrex told him glumly. "Damned genophage."

Derby's mouth worked slowly underneath his tired, inebriated features. "Com…compassionately; I am sorry, Urdoot. Your people deserve more fear and respect."

Wrex chuckled deeply. "I appreciate that, Elcor. I think I'm going to have to take you away from here now."

The Krogan rose from his seat, taking the rag from off the table and stooping down to place his hands on Derby's large abdomen.

"Inappropriate, uncontrollable amusement; Did-did I just called you 'Urdoot'?"

"Yes, Derby, you did."

"Awkward hilarity; I amused myself."

* * *

CITADEL

RESIDENTIAL SECTION

Wrex walked alongside the stumbling Elcor, helping him to his four feet when he needed it.

Despite the late hour, the alleyways and corridors of the residential sector were brightly lit, almost cheerful in their sun-dappled appearance. The streets that had been reduced to rubble in the attack had been cordoned off with neon-colored cones and concrete barriers, makeshift canvas walls surrounding the worst of the damage. It was as though they were not only unsafe, but that the simple eyesore that resulted from their shattered appearance would've been such a hit to the morale of the Citadel population that the Council had decided to hide the destruction from plain view.

Every so often, Wrex caught glances of figures and shapes moving behind drawn shades and curtains, wary residents peeking out from the subjective safety of their homes to watch the Krogan and the Elcor slowly, determinedly make their way towards Derby's apartment.

Had he, in taking part of Shepard's crusade against Saren, helped save these people's lives?

As if reading his thoughts, Derby said slowly, "Amicably; I do not care…about the petty angst your compatriots might now wallow in, Urdnot. Nor does it matter, ultimately, if the turian attempts to harm the C-Sec officer, if he is as corrupt as you suggest. What matters is that, as a unit who did not always see eye to eye, you took it upon yourselves to save the future of countless lives."

Wrex couldn't think of anything to say to that.

For a while, the only sounds were that of the their feet on the pavement, Urdnot's heavy footfalls and Derby's ambling scrapes, and the ambience of the Citadel; transit cars whipping through the air far above them, the distant echo of rushing water, the automated weather system softly brushing wind through the planted trees that lined the streets and the occasional open apartment window, drapes fluttering and the unintelligible squawking of a vid-screen.

Then Derby said, "You are my hero, Urdnot Wrex."

A sudden rush of anger filled the Krogan, a heavy menacing growl stuck in the back of his throat. His body tensed, his clawed hands in fists, talons digging into the soft, unprotected flesh of his palms.

The Elcor was too drunk to notice.

"No," Wrex said, his wide lips drawing back in a grimace.

Derby shifted in his awkward shuffle to look the Krogan in the face. "Bewilderment; what is wrong?"

Wrex stared straight ahead. "I don't think my point's struck home, Derby, but it's all right. We still have time for me to explain."

* * *

ALLIANCE MEDICAL STATION 34-B17

"_We stole breaths of air before we were ever alive. First born on a battlefield, in a skirmish, on the streets of our homes, but first born with the taking of another life. Some of us came to it sooner than others, but ultimately we were all together, living because we killed. Living from the blood on our hands."_

The hooded figure shook in her arms, unable to speak. Alice gripped the rubber medical tubing tighter. She had wrapped it around the intruders neck, twisted it to cut off the air it tried to breathe.

The Spectre stood in the middle of the medroom, naked from the waist down, holding the smaller figure close to her, one arm around the waist, the other below the neck, between the intruder's breasts, a vice-like grip on the rubber.

Her face was cold, expressionless.

The female hidden amongst the brown garbs and shawl dropped the sharp object she'd been holding in her hand when she'd entered the room. It clattered to the floor, but Shepard didn't bother to glance at what it was.

The intruders hands began to claw desperately at her own; soft, blue hands, with polished black nails that drew blood down her arms.

Shepard brushed her head against the brown hood the Asari intruder wore and spoke; "I'm going to loosen my grip now, and you're going to be able to breathe again. You'll want to suck in as much air as you possibly can as fast as you can, but don't do that. The oxygen will all go rushing back to your head, you'll become feint and you'll pass out. And I need you to stay awake. So just…", the hands at her arms were beginning to lose their strength, "calmly and deeply," the figure started slump into her arms, "breathe."

She let go.

The Asari crumpled to the floor, shaking, hands reflexively going to her throat. As she struggled to breathe on the floor, her hood fell back, revealing a face Shepard did not recognize, caught in a silent scream.

Eventually the Asari began to cough, which was quickly followed by tortured, ragged breaths and more functional movement.

Shepard eyed her cautiously, as the strength returning to her body made her a viable threat once more. "There, that's good. Just keep breath slowly."

The Asari glared up at her through reddened eyes, her lips quivering with rage. "You…tried to kill me."

Shepard let out a sigh of relief and knelt on the floor next to her. "Well, from your righteous indignation I gather you _weren't_ trying to kill me."

The Asari continued to clutch her throat with one hand, just breathing through her nose now, nostrils flaring. She let out a forceful, "No."

"To be fair, I was strangling you. You probably would've passed out before you died, and I don't make a habit of killing people when they're unconscious."

"That doesn't make me feel any safer, Spectre."

Alice frowned. "I'm not trying to make you feel safe. I've been admitted here to securely recuperate, hidden amongst thousands of similar med stations with no special treatment, such as an armed guard that would naturally give away my location to anyone that might want to take me out in my weakened state."

"You don't seem that weak to me."

"Tell that to Councilor Anderson and the doctors. I sure as hell haven't been able to convince them. Are you good to stand up?"

The Asari thought for a moment, glancing around the room from her position on the floor, then nodded.

Alice took her by the arm and lifted her up, attempting to keep her stable. "Anyway, I doubt you were granted access to this hall by the med station attendants, which means you must've snuck in. And that means you've got something to hide."

"Only a warning," the Asari said, a hint of anger still in her voice. She bent down and snatched the object she'd been holding earlier from the floor.

Alice's brow furrowed. "Who are you, and who sent you?"

"My name is Thania Nuriah, and I have been sent by my teacher, Sha'ira, the Asari con-"

"We've met," Alice stated simply, her eyes on the partially obscured object the Asari held, "is that for me?"

"Yes," she said, presenting it to the Spectre. It was a model of some sort, wrapped in a dirty brown cloth that covered it except for its circular top. It was constructed of a metal that reflected the medroom's light in a green and bluish hue.

Alice took the model, unraveling the cloth as soon as she held it in her palm.

"Sha'ira would like to explain to you that she does not understand its significance, only that it means grave danger for many people."

The cloth removed, Alice stared at what she held in her hand; it was a model of a ship.

"What do you mean, 'she doesn't understand its significance?"

Thania tugged at her cloak and shawl, dragging the hood over her head and obscuring her face again. "She had a vision, Shepard. Of you and that ship, and of the millions dead in between."

Alice shook her head, confused. She turned the model over and over in her hands. "The build is unique, but the body type is definitely Alliance. I've never seen…no, this ship doesn't exist."

"Sha'ira must've built it wrong." She looked up at Thania.

Only she wasn't there. Shepard whirled around, turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees. She was alone.

_Well, I'll give her that much, _Shepard thought, _her exit was better than her entrance._

* * *

THE FRIGATE 'BRISCO COUNTY'

"_For some, it wasn't from a sense of duty or the thrill of peril or the need to feel the quickening of a heartbeat slip away beneath their fingers. It was just a means to an end. And when the end came, it was none to soon. It meant an open window of retreat, where the body could rest and the mind could mend the heart with hollow promises that one day, the pain of the memories of what they'd done would fade to black. And be nothing."_

Tali laid amongst the rumpled cotton sheets in her quarters, her head propped up with one arm, her elbow digging into the springs beneath the surface of the uncomfortable human mattress the crew had supplied her with.

Her room was small and rectangular, containing no luxuries save the portable vid-screen on the desk across from her bed. The walls to either side of her ran the length of the bed and about three feet beyond, with just enough space between the edge of the bed and the door to set her bag.

Currently she had gripped a fold in the top-most sheet between her pointer finger and thumb, and was idly rubbing it back and forth, trying to come up with a way to recreate the sound of the Normandy's engine so that she could fall asleep.

She missed the Normandy, sure. It captivated her, every square inch of it, up until the moment she'd left. A part of her felt as though she needed the Normandy and its subtleties, it's narrow halls and softly blinking lights to feel complete.

But to have stayed would've meant that eventually, she'd be called again by Shepard to pick up a gun and point it at someone and pull the trigger if they tried pulling theirs. Staying would've meant the prospect of another battle, another war, another dead-.

Tali shook her head, and thought of the Flotilla. Of border hopping across the Verge and arguing with her cousins and friends over the worth of scrapped cargo left stranded in space by careless travelers, and months of endless required maintenance on engines and motors that purred sweet nothings to her as she graced the smallest parts of them with her delicate touch.

She wanted that life back.

She wanted to see her father, and to hear the sound of his voice again. She wanted to breathe clean air without the suit, keelah, she wanted out of the blasted suit!

To sleep in her own bed and eat things that made sense to her, to work on destroying the geth from a _safe_ environment for once, to get Urdnot and Shepard and Garrus out of her head!

"Tali?"

"Garrus?" She sat up quickly, her voice curious and hopeful.

It was not Garrus. It was the second-in-command of the Brisco County, a human with a sandwich currently stuck in his mouth. He was standing in the doorway, staring at her, puzzled.

"No," he said finally, taking the sandwich in his hand and chewing on the part he'd bitten off. "It's Errikson…I'm jus' checkin' up on you, sweetness. You doin' okay?"

"Yes, thank you. I am fine."

Errikson wiped his mouth, his eyes wide and centered on her lower body. " Getting settled in alright?"

"I am, thank you." She pulled the top sheet over her legs.

"…you need anything?" He persisted.

"No, I am fine. Right now I am just thinking about home."

"Well, alright then. They did tell you it was going to be awhile, right? We ain't gonna be using the relays right now, princess, not while the Alliance is checking 'em out for any more possible fuck-ups."

"I am aware, Errikson. Right now I just wish to be with my thoughts, okay?"

He nodded congenially. "Sure-oh, one more thing. Captain wanted me to tell you to turn on the vids, 'parently something big is going down and he thought you might want to know."

Tali thanked him for the news. She did not turn on the vid-screen. When he'd gone, and the door had whistled shut, Tali laid back down on the bed, curled herself into a ball, and began to hum.

She hoped eventually it would start to seem like an engine.

* * *

Wrex lumbered faster now. Derby's house was just at the end of this street. The young researcher was tired and on the brink of passing out, his large body aching with drunken exhaustion, and even though Wrex knew what the Elcor wanted to hear, he wasn't about to lie to him, to let this go.

Not after what Derby had said.

"You talk about 'heroes' because you're kind and weak and grateful to be alive, and you're looking for someone to thank and admire. Well here's the truth, kid; there are no heroes."

* * *

"_Shepard's a good woman, and a better fighter, but she's just as messed up as the rest of us. She may not kill you to save herself, but she'd let you die to save ten people standing behind you. That's not being a hero, it's just basic economics. The more that survive, the more that rebuild and do better the next time. And she'll take any comfort she can get in the arms of that Asari doctor, but eventually, she'll find a 'noble' reason to lose her too."_

Shepard ran through the halls of the med station, dressed in sweats and a plain gray t-shirt, a look of barely controlled panic in her eyes. Liara had never come back, the nurses and doctors had all left their stations, and she was running out of places to look on the small, three story station.

She needed to find Liara desperately, and for the first time the pains and bruises on her body were starting to talk to her, to tell her stop, slow down, lie down, cease moving and let them rest.

But she couldn't stop.

She called out, "Liara?"

And silence answered.

Silence followed by a collective burst of angry, scared voices above her. On the third floor.

* * *

"_Tali wanted to make her father proud and earn a place amongst her people, so she did something stupid, got in over her head and wound up with us, scared and struggling to survive, and if the galaxy got saved, well that was just great, as long as she was still in one piece to see it."_

Tali finally slept, but in fits, tossing and turning. Images of explosions and gunfire, of torn, shattered corpses filled her mind's eye.

There were no dreams of home, of her father and friends, of engines and ships and sterile air.

There were only violent winter storms on barren planets with thresher maws swimming through the rocks beneath the surface, shaking the interior to the Mako, geth swarms firing at her from every corner, a crew of psychopaths with crazy eyes spinning in there heads, wide bloody smiles that wouldn't break, firearms chattering endlessly in their hands while Tali screamed and screamed for the noise to stop.

That night there was only the sounds of destruction for TaliZorah nar Rayya.

* * *

"_Garrus? Shepard might've instilled some fancy notions of honor in his head, but he came along for the same reason I did. Cause he's a cold bastard, and seeing Saren dead was little more than a dream of pinning a flag on the peak of a mountain, a mountain built of the bodies of every single living, breathing son-of-a-bitch that got in our way. And now that the dream has become a reality and it's all over, Garrus is just waiting, biding his time until the next idiot steps out of line with an army at his back and says, 'Me first'."_

Garrus walked out into the street, a fresh cigarette clipped in his left mandible. His feet clicked on the pavement as he turned and looked both ways.

Just two large, lone figures walking slowly at the far end of the street.

Garrus smiled grimly to himself and started to walk in the opposite direct. He retrieved a sodden hand towel from a back pocket in his suit and proceeded to wipe his hands of any remaining fluids.

By the time he reached the end of the path, Garrus spotted a transit cab sitting idly by an Avina kiosk. He stuffed the red-stained towel back into the pocket, careful to push the Palaven lighter to the side first, and sauntered towards the cab.

* * *

ARKHAM SPACE STATION

TRANSIT SYSTEM

"_And Kaiden. Poor, ruined biotic with a broken heart and a big, fat chip on his shoulder. If there was one of us who was in it for the glory, the emotional spoils of it all, it was Kaiden. After seeing Shepard in action on Eden Prime, Kaiden must've dreamt of a hundred different happy endings he and his commander could've shared. You could see it in his face every time he looked at her. But in the end, Kaiden left empty handed, and Shepard thinks he just ran home to lick his wounded pride whole again."_

Kaiden Alenko sat alone in a subway car, a brown paper bag filled with groceries beside him. It would be another twenty-five minutes until he got back to the temporary residence the Alliance had set up for him in the lower sector of the undermanned station.

The lights in the car flickered.

He sighed and rubbed at his temple, an expression of complete, absolute misery sweeping across his face.

"Please, not again."

Whatever he'd pleaded to didn't listen. The lights flickered again. This time, one of them popped in a shower of sparks at the far end of the cab.

"No, no, no…"

A sound, above him. Something was dribbling in the bulbs. The fluid was racing down the length of the fluorescent lights, and the color of the car he sat in began to change from a dull gray to a dark red.

"_Truth is, Kaiden's deeper than that. And if the commander wasn't so short-sighted sometimes she'd see this, and she'd allow what he told the councilor to sink in. See, there's one member of the crew we haven't talked about. Cause when she sacrificed herself to save the rest of us, getting blown to bits while standing knee-deep in a tropical glade firing shots at every enemy in sight, she came the closest any of us probably ever will to becoming what you would call a hero. A brave, selfless act that could only end one way. And I just don't like to think about that. But Kaiden? He'll wallow in her violent end until there's nothing left of him."_

Blood had begun to rain in the car as it rumbled down the circular track of the space station. It fell on his head, soaking his hair, staining his arms and legs red as he sat, trying to wish the sight away.

One of the windows at the far end cracked with such ferocity that Kaiden jumped out of his seat.

"This isn't real!" He shouted.

To his left, the grocery bag carrying the items he'd picked up at the station market began to float into the air. The bottom half of the bag was soaked through, and blood was pouring out of the bottom.

"Ah, Christ!"

Something outside of the subway car screamed, an unearthly howl like Kaiden had never heard before.

A vacuum-sealed bag of green beans floated out of the paper bag. It tore at the sides, and the contents exploded out onto the floor of the car, mixing in with the red water.

"Kaiden," a rasping voice to the right and behind him, "that's not our mess."

He whipped around.

Saren Arterius stood in the red glow of the middle of the shaking, bleeding car, and leered at him through a broken skull. "You're panicking, ruining perfectly good food."

A hand came down hard on his shoulder, and a feminine voice said, "You should really clean that up."

Kaiden shut his eyes and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Ashley."

* * *

"_It's all bullshit, kid. We're all part of what's called the moral stasis. Good things happen, bad things happen. Time moves on, but really, there is no time. And maybe something really bad happens, and a lot of good, weak people like you get hurt. Maybe nobody saves you. Maybe we all die. But eventually, in this universe without the limits of something as trivial and pointless as time, life will begin again, and killers like me will breathe again, and in their lust for blood they'll wind up doing something good by killing something really, truly bad, because that's the best challenge there is. That's the best fight in the world, facing something you know is stronger than you are, and beating the shit out of it. And eventually, it'll all start over again."_

"Cause there are no heroes, Derby. There are just weak, simple-minded people like you, and killers like me. And I just want to fight something that'll fight back, okay?"

They were at his apartment. On the steps. Wrex gave Derby a long, hard look, trying to see inside the Elcor's head, to see if what he'd said had made any sense.

Derby raised one of his massive legs and rubbed it on the surface of the door. It beeped and clicked and beeped again. Then it opened in a rush of stale air.

Derby turned back to Wrex.

It was a moment before he said anything. "Deeply saddened; I comprehend your message to me, Urdnot Wrex. You truly believe what you say. And that is a great tragedy. With hope; you have a long road yet to travel in your life, as do I. Perhaps one day, you will come to understand why I hold you and the other crew members of the Normandy, alive and in death, in the highest regards. And, mildly irritated; I am weak in body and strength, Urdnot, but not in spirit. And despite your deeply rooted conviction to the contrary, neither are you. You are a hero. One day you will see that."

Derby entered his apartment slowly, and it shut behind him.

Wrex ground his teeth together, taking the rag from Flux out of his suit and throwing in disgust on Derby's steps.

"If I'm such a hero, how did I know where you lived, you idiot."

He walked down the steps and started back in the direction he came from. Wrex slipped out a data pad and checked the time. "A complete waste."

A few minutes later, when Wrex had finally spotted a transit cab two blocks down, a mild explosion shook the ground beneath him. The planted trees lining the quaint, beautiful street suddenly showered him in leaves shaken loose from their branches.

He continued walking, even after the screams began.

The automated transit car was abysmally quiet on the ride back to the Tower.

* * *

She spotted Liara in the back of the crowded room, her hand over her mouth, her eyes glued to the vid-screen.

Alice shoved and pushed her way to the Asari, placing a hand on her shoulder when she'd reached her.

Liara placed her own hand on Shepard's without looking back, interlocking their fingers.

"I couldn't find you any coffee." She said, dazed.

Alice stood next to her and finally caught a glimpse of what was on the screen. It took the breath out of her.

Every bruise and ache in her body disappeared. Sha'ira and her disciples were now a distant thought.

A female krogan's voice shouted through the vid-screen. "Our demands are simple. As are our methods."

Liara felt Alice's wet hand and glance back at her arms. "Goddess, Shepard. You're bleeding."

Shepard found her voice.

"We've got to get back to the Normandy. Now."

TBC

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A/N --- Many thanks to Blackrain7557 for his reviews. They were very appreciated, and hopefully the longer chapters have been better. I've certainly enjoyed writing them more.

This is set to be a series of twelve episodes, this first being shorter in length than the ones to follow as I tested the waters of writing fanfic for the first time in a good long while.

Characters will not always get their own chapters as the storylines bleed together, and every character will probably not be featured in every episode, as following a static character with nothing to do for a while is a bit tedious for me as a writer, but each of the main characters does have an arch, and I hope people will enjoy following it as much as I dig writing it.

See you soon with Episode Two of Aconcagua Dawn.

_themaninthealley sumter, sc december 01, 08_


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